


I dream of you in colours that don't exist

by plethora



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Rush (2013)
Genre: Angst, Dreams, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plethora/pseuds/plethora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James has nightmares where Niki leaves him, and from the way Niki is acting recently, they're probably going to come true. He learns to savour any affection Niki throws his way and dreads the day it'll actually happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, James has nightmares. It's ridiculous really, that out of the two of them, it's he who wakes up in a panic, grabbing at the sheets beside himself and sobbing. 

He feels guilty for even having them, because he isn't the one survived the horrific, disfiguring crash. He hasn't been laid out as some bland faced doctor suckers out bloody, charred chunks of lung. They're not even violent. Well, unless he's counting heartbreak, which he isn't, because it's nothing in comparison. 

Because they aren't together. Not really. Of course not. They shout and fuck and wake up smushed together sometimes, a tangle of limbs from which Niki always extricates himself from like James' touch burns. Burns again, he supposes cruelly.

No, the hurt is still acute, but nobody lifts a finger. Nobody raises a hand. 

There's just Niki, sat on the edge of the bed, dressed ready to leave. 

In his dreams he always wakes up and sidles closer, not taking note of Niki's stony expression and wanting warmth. 

He butts his head against Niki's shoulder and nuzzles until he can brush their lips together, only something doesn't feel right now because he doesn't respond. Just pushes James back until they aren't touching. 

James always feels stupidly like a chastised child when that happens, colour burning his cheeks.

“I need this to be over.” Niki says, and his voice is very level, like he's rehearsed it in his head. Typical Niki. 

“What?” he says, because Niki should be in bed with him, fewer clothes, more kissing. It's a Sunday (it's always a Sunday in this dream) and Sundays not spent either fucking or in the build up to fucking are Sundays wasted. 

The budgies chirrup in their cage by the window and he watches them stretch their wings to better feel the sun.

He's still smiling – like an idiot – when Niki regards him again.

“I need this relationship – whatever scraps of one we have – to be over.”

This is the bit where his blood runs cold and his stomach does an uncomfortable swooping motion, nausea settling in his bones. 

“What.” he replies, and Niki sighs at him, like he's frustrated. 

“I've been thinking about us-”

Himself, chirruping up again. The script never changes. 

He never learns.

“There's nothing to think about, Niki come on, come to bed-”

He grabs his arm and Niki shakes him off like he's disgusted. 

“Exactly, exactly! Always nothing! Nothing to think about, yet you expect me to be at your beck and call when you want to fuck. You ask a lot, don't you think, to say we have nothing?”

“We- we don't have nothing, Niki, don't be stupid. We have something. We always have. We used to confuse it with fighting and then...”

He lets the thought trail off. His voice is shaking and wheedling. He's not good at this kind of thing.

Niki snorts. 

“And this? You think this is what I want?”

James never understands it's a rhetorical question and just shrugs. 

“It's what we want, of course it is, we'd never have started a relationship if not.”

Him! Talking about relationships and being sensible! Niki should be proud!

Yet Niki shakes his head again. 

“You're a fool, James, if you ever thought this was a relationship.”

James feels bile start to climb his throat and swallows hard. Niki's just messing. He'll come around. He always does. 

He tries to grab ahold of Niki's hand, but he's pulling away now, out of reach and standing to leave. 

“There's to be no more of this, you understand? Whilst I'm sure you're fine in such a loveless carry on, I am not.”

Loveless. Loveless. 

James' heart pounds and Niki is talking again, about how he's taken the liberty of sorting through all the clothes he's left at James' house and taken them all back. How he doesn't want James to call him. 

It feels like the words are being squeezed out of him, but he responds. 

“It w-wasn't. It wasn't loveless. It never was. We love each other, I. I love you. I've loved you for a while now.”

And the nightmare just about peaks here, because Niki? Niki laughs. 

“James, you love anyone that spreads their legs for you.”

He can't breathe. This isn't happening and Niki will come around and it'll be fine. If he keeps repeating that to himself it'll happen. 

James tries to steady his breathing. He wants to be sick. 

“It's not like that. Not for you.”

Niki gives him a withering look. 

“No? So you've been faithful? You want to keep doing this? You want to – what – settle down and grow old together?” 

James sniffles and and nods. He digs the t-shirt Niki wears as a pyjama top out from under his pillow and stashes it his lap. 

“I have, I want that.” James wishes his voice would stop fucking trembling, wishes his hands would stop shaking. 

Niki looks at him dispassionately.

"No, you don't. It'll be just like with Gemma and Suzy and all the others you've attempted to stay true to. You're like a spoilt child with too many toys."

James makes a wounded sound then, can't help it. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to take deep breaths. It's like Niki has found the chink in his armour and is working out how best to drive in the knife. He closes his eyes. 

When he opens them Niki is closer, stood right by his side. James flings his arms round him, instinctive need to physically hang on to him. He can't bloody well leave if James just hangs on, can he?

Niki huffs and goes to pull back his tee. 

“Stop being so childish!” he spits when James clings, and gives it a final, abortive tug before letting it drop. 

"Why don't you believe me? Niki, I - I love you. I love you, I'm sorry I didn't say it enough, I'm sorry, fuck -"

Niki doesn't even look at him.

"Didn't say it enough? James, please. You've said it enough times to enough different people over the years it's as good as meaningless." 

He hasn't. He doesn't say that to just anyone. He knows dream Niki is a caricature of the man himself, spite amplified and coldness tailored especially to James' worst fears, but that doesn't help when the nightmare keeps recurring.

“Don't. Don't go.” James says, and his eyes are prickling and for fuck's sake, he's not going to cry. He doesn't cry. 

Dream Niki sneers.

“You don't give me any reason to stay, do you?"

And just like that, he snaps awake. 

Every single time at the same point, only this time Niki actually is stopping over, and there's a horrible moment where he thinks he's woken him, because flinching awake and physically shaking hardly makes him a good bedfellow. 

He holds his breath until he hears Niki snoring softly, uninterrupted. Still dead to the world. He's grateful Niki sleeps so deeply, especially post drink and fuck. Or was it fuck and drink? 

Wait, had they even drunk last night? He doesn't remember popping any bottles open.

James tries to think through the sleep fog and flails an arm out in the dark to his bedside table. Nothing but a single wine glass, what he'd drunk with Niki after he'd turned up out of the blue. He had been acting strange and irritable and snappy – moreso than usual- but sure as hell hadn't hesitated on pushing James up against the door and kissing him, fingers pushing under his top and clutching at his waist. 

He remembers pausing and asking if Niki was okay, only for him to scowl. It doesn't matter he'd said, then asked if it was just James in. If he had any girls over. James had huffed out a laugh and told him of course not. It was a tuesday night and sure, he could have called someone but...in all honestly, he 'd not felt like it. He hasn't felt the need to for a while. Which was apparently Niki's cue to to tug him to the bedroom, frenetic and anxious when James had pulled away even just to switch the light on. Pushing James onto his back to ride him and giving him long, lingering kisses, gasping into his mouth.

James shifts and curls closer to Niki, going gently so as not to wake him, tucking his knees behind his and wrapping and arm around his waist. 

He doesn't want to go to sleep again but he doesn't want to move either. Niki isn't cuddly. Had James tried when he was awake, he'd have bore it for a while then wriggled free, scowling. Each time it happens James has to laugh off the weird feeling it makes in his chest. Niki is just humouring him. He doesn't actually want James' affection, and it hurts more than it should.

Of course Niki doesn't want to snuggle up though. They're barely friends. Enemies in public. 

Maybe that's the reason the dream keeps recurring, because they're both so unstable.

He tucks his nose into the curls at the base of Niki's neck and breathes in deeply. He smells all warm and soft. A safe sort of smell that would have a doubtlessly soporific effect were it not for how his mind was racing. 

He could tell Niki. Tell him why sometimes he wakes him up when he startles back to conciousness. But how would that work? Yeah, Niki, the reason I'm having bad dreams is because you don't like me. Or you do like me, but only as a convenient fuck. Or maybe you don't like me at all but you're willing to bear me in order to get your rocks off. 

He tries to imagine it. 

Trying to bite the bullet. 

"You don't love me." he'd say, maybe getting them both a bit drunk first so he has an excuse for being so open. He can picture crystal clear the expression Niki would make. If he was lucky, Niki would laugh it off. Wrinkling his nose and snorting with laughter. 

"Of course not." He'd reply, and probably change the subject. 

If he wasn't...Niki would get that pinched, annoyed sort of look he usually reserves for the mechanics when they fuck up. He'd pry. Would cotton on to how James looked uncomfortable and work it out of him. _What do you mean 'love you'? Of course I don't...wait, James, do you love me? Is that what this is about?_

Either way, James' heart would break.

And Niki wouldn't give a shit.

After all, the first time (months ago) he'd had the dream he'd awoken nearly hyperventilating and clung so hard to Niki as he shook that he'd woken him up too. 

He'd tried to explain but he'd only got as far as "sorry, please, I had a nightmare about -" before Niki wriggled free and batted away the hand that went to grasp his own.

"You're suffocating me, it's too warm for this."

And.

James had flinched, and squeezed his eyes shut because it felt like Niki wasn't just talking about the here and now. More little hints Niki doesn't want his affections.

So he'd vowed to not be so touchy-feely from then on. Dial back all the stupid ideas he has about lounging together on the sofa before bed or long periods of kissing just for the sake of kissing and curling close post fuck and- he doesn't want Niki to feel uncomfortable. It seems to be working. He doesn't initiate affection outside of sex any more, nor cuddle (well, when Niki's awake anyway) and if Niki has noticed, he hasn't said as such. But why should he have, really? When they'd started this ridiculous thing James had stupidly _(fuck, he's so stupid)_ made a post-coital joke about how Niki had better only be after him for shags because he was hardly marriage material, and Niki had practically cried laughing. Then he'd -

Then he'd followed it up with _of course. the fucks are what you're good for. You're not long term._

Very sensible, very blunt, typical Niki.

At the time he'd found it reassuring. No strings. Simple.

But now- Now it just hurts. Hurts that Niki doesn't see him as something worthwhile off the track.

He wants him to stay as long as possible. As long as he can stand to, even though he's certain his time is almost up, the final few grains of sand dropping through the hourglass.

(He'd said it once, when they were hopelessly drunk, Niki with laid with his head on James' chest, and he was certain Niki was asleep. Whispering into the stillness of the room; "Please don't get bored of me." Only Niki had made a confused sort of noise and kissed him, clambering into his lap and fingers bracketing his jaw. He'd pulled away only to lay kiss after kiss on his face and neck and held James' head in the crook of his shoulder afterwards . He'd be lying of he said it wasn't one of the memories he treasures most, but it's bittersweet. He'd only been so affectionate because he was drunk. Niki probably doesn't even remember it.)

He sighs and rearranges his arm so that he can cup Niki's hand in his own and imagines that maybe Niki would let him, when they're awake. Maybe Niki would allow him all the affections of domesticity and they would stand in the kitchen, a late morning, and James would hold Niki from behind as their breakfasts cooked and hangovers waned. That maybe Niki wouldn't skulk out as soon as he could and leave James to reach out to nothing but cold sheets when he woke, a nightmare made real. That he'd smile and kiss James back. That he'd stay. 

No. He can't tell him. Telling him would mean confronting the lump in his throat when Niki leaves, the hollow feeling in his chest when Niki can't bear to touch him the morning after the night before. God forbid he tell him there are feelings – whatever those feelings may be – involved. His dreamt outcome of that seemed to be pretty realistic. 

James isn't fucking stupid, despite what Niki may think. He's going to take what he can get, and if that means sometimes he pines, well. Fuck it. It's a small hurt. He's okay. 

Niki stirs, stretching his legs out and James recoils, quick as a flash. He goes back to his own side of the bed and settles with his back to Niki, his hands to himself, and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to be awake to see him leave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niki broods, and as with any other time he broods, the outcome is not good.

Niki wakes up slow, fumbling to grab the alarm clock screaming on the stack of books he keeps by the bed. Half past ten. He hasn't slept so late in an age, but he's got no reason to wake up early, especially seen as James had kept him up exceptionally late. 

His cheeks flush just thinking about it, the way they'd flopped down next to each other in the afterglow, shaky limbs, his mouth pressing a chaste kiss to the bruise he'd sucked high on James' throat. He eases himself into a sitting position, carefully stretching in a way that doesn't tug at his scar tissue. It's still an angry sort of pink in some places, little flecks on his neck and chest. He stays slumped for a little, considering what to do. He could go straight home, but he can hear the rain beating down and being blown against the window and it just sinks him further into the bedding. He hates driving in the rain. Coffee is an option, but usually James fetches that up to him, balancing the two mugs on a small silver tray and refusing to give Niki his until he's been kissed. 

Or at least he used to. Lately the little snatches of domesticity seem to be getting more and more infrequent. James used to be so tactile and free and easy with his touches...but now...not so much. 

He glances over at him uneasily.

James is practically on the edge of the bed, back to him and hands tucked under the pillow. Niki swallows hard. It shouldn't bother him. It shouldn't, and yet-.

He thinks of nights relaxing in front of the TV and James pulling him into his lap so he could kiss him in the ad breaks, smiling against his mouth, fingers fumbling to push his jumper up. 

He thinks of James fucking him one morning over the summer, on his back and so slow and deep that he'd trembled afterwards, James pulling him close and sharing his body heat. 

He thinks of the time he'd had a minor crash a few months back. How after the race James had slunk straight to see him, chain smoking (even more than usual) and more shaken than Niki was himself. Had dragged him into a shadowy corner and kissed him, frantic at first them petering out into a long, syrupy-slowness. You fucking scared me, darling, he'd said.

It's funny, really. He'd always used to pretend to hate it when James cuddled up to him, all warm and lovely, then absolutely relish it. Basking in his undivided attention. 

And well. Now that James has won him over and doesn't have the thrill of the chase, he's grown bored. It's becoming more and more obvious day by day. Fewer calls, no holding him, not even saying goodbye properly. The last time he'd left he'd sought out James to say farewell only-.

Had found him in the kitchen sat at the breakfast table, head in his hands, eyes red rimmed – from his hangover perhaps. Little pile of cigarette ash by his elbow. 

He hadn't even shifted, just shrugged and said I'll see you soon, won't I?. 

Niki looks at him again.

He wants to roll across and plaster himself against James' back. Be smooched awake like he used to.

But look at him. The only way he could be further away from Niki was if he'd gone to sleep on the couch. Niki feels insulted, almost. If he's gotten so bored than he should at least have the balls to say it to Niki's face, rather than just letting it drag on. 

He doesn't want to let go, but. 

He's not going to play the fool, not for anyone. Not even James. 

Sure, it'll be awkward but he's only himself to blame if it hurts. 

He should have known, though. He knew James' reputation – who fucking doesn't? He didn't go into this whole sham blind. 

James sleeps on, limbs twitching in his slumber, curling in on himself a bit more. Niki wonders what he's dreaming so deeply about to doze through an alarm clock and the budgies chirruping from dawn. 

That'll be a perk, at least. Not getting disturbed at the crack of dawn by James' numerous pets. 

Yes, he thinks. He'll make it quick. Do it after breakfast – he's not a complete heathen – and that'll be that. 

He plans it out in his head. 

“James, we need to talk.”

James would beat him to it, maybe. He can't have been oblivious to how whatever they have – had, whatever – has been dwindling. He'd be relieved, probably, and if that makes his chest ache dully, again, Niki's only himself to blame. 

He slides out of bed quietly and grabs James' dressing gown off the back of the door. There's no reason that he can't savour things before the cut off. It's huge on him and soft and he'll...miss it. This. All of the domestic touches, even though James is possibly the least domesticated man he has ever met. 

Niki puts the coffee on to steep and waits. Perhaps he should go and wake James himself. He's getting antsy waiting and it is 11am after all. 

He climbs back up the stairs with enough weight in his chest it's like he's proceeding to the gallows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I decided to continue this?? Apparently that was a good decision for me to make?? I thought that was a wise choice??? What am I even doing??? 
> 
> Who knows!
> 
> [Panicking aside, hope you all enjoyed <3]

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolute trope-filled trash, I'm sorry. Come find me on tumblr if you fancy - I'm hotcommunist ❤


End file.
